


What We Don't Know

by Kaneko



Category: Popslash
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2002-04-15
Updated: 2002-04-15
Packaged: 2017-10-18 02:47:02
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,142
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/184172
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kaneko/pseuds/Kaneko
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Justin didn't even know he was doing it until an interviewer in Boston smiled at him, and said: "You two are so sweet." And he realised abruptly that he had the hem of Chris' sweater stretched over his thumb and forefinger, and that his left boot was hooked around Chris' ankle.</p>
            </blockquote>





	What We Don't Know

**Author's Note:**

> For linbot. Too late for your birthday, but still for you. Thank you, thank you, *thank you* to Cesca for taking out bad bits and putting in good bits - all while food-poisoned, to Georgina for the key transition, and to haven for read-throughs and support.

Justin didn't even know he was doing it until an interviewer in Boston smiled at him, and said: "You two are so sweet." And he realised abruptly that he had the hem of Chris' sweater stretched over his thumb and forefinger, and that his left boot was hooked around Chris' ankle.

After that, he started noticing all kinds of things - like the way his hip brushed Chris' shoulder when he walked by him on the bus, like the way the lighting guy looked from him to Chris and back to him again sometimes.

At first, he tried not to touch Chris so much. It was hard though. The bus wasn't all that big. And Chris noticed almost straight away.

"S'matter, J?"

They were making sandwiches. Chris had slathered his with a quarter of an inch of margarine and nothing else. Justin was spreading jelly meticulously - it was only good if there was exactly the same amount of jelly as peanut butter.

The problem was it was pretty awkward - there was barely enough room for one person behind the counter, and the only way for Justin to keep his elbow from jostling Chris' arm, was to hold it tight by his side.

Justin frowned hard at the peanut butter. "Nothing," he said.

Chris pressed two fingers under Justin's chin, and Justin looked up.

"Chris, I'm fine. Don't be a freak, yo," he said, and was relieved to find that his voice sounded completely normal.

"Hmm," Chris said. But then he grinned and relaxed and patted Justin's elbow gently. "You look like a duck, man."

He made quacking noises and chuckled quietly to himself for the rest of the day.

And after that, Justin was back to touching Chris again. Because - fuck - he might get the occasional weird look from strangers. But he saw Chris every day.

* * *

JC always said that the first time he met Justin, he'd had a Weird Spooky Feeling that Justin would play an important role in his life.

Justin never said so, but he pretty much thought that was bullshit. He'd felt nothing then, and nothing when he first met Chris at a voiceover audition.

Chris hadn't even been interesting - or not particularly: just a hyperactive guy with crazy hair and a loud voice.

* * *

"Fake!" Chris yelled at Christina Aguilera's breasts on MTV. "Fake, fake, fake, f- oh *nice*." He poured himself another vodka and toasted Christina's backup singer with wobbly fingers. "Check it out."

Justin crawled into the space between Chris' feet and the side of the bus. "Which one?"

Chris smiled indulgently, and kneaded Justin's curls with his free hand. "Third on the left," he said, and Justin felt warm all over like he was basking in the sun. He sat there, barely breathing, listening to Chris ramble about the time he'd got laid by the British children's-show presenter in the green room, and they'd done the interview ruffled and flushed fifteen minutes later. It was a story Justin had heard probably eighty times before, but now, Chris' slurred, murmuring voice made it new and fascinating and strange.

At the end of the next song, Chris pulled away to pour himself another drink. Justin touched his cheek, where he'd been leaning it against Chris' knee. "You think Mya's are real?" he asked.

"Yeah, um. I don't know," Chris said vaguely. "Yo, Mick!" he shouted down the bus. "Pit stop, man. I wanna fuck with Chasez' head."

It was only a thirty second walk to the other bus, but that was long enough for all of the warmth Justin had soaked up to leave him. He was shivering by the time they got inside.

Joey's smile was reassuringly familiar. "Y'all can't live without us," he drawled. He enfolded Justin in a hug. "Damn, you feel like ice, baby."

He'd been drinking too - his breath smelled like tequila. It was a comforting smell. Justin buried his face in Joey's flannel shirt. He was glad it was Joey. JC would have asked Justin if he was okay, and made everyone crowd around him. But Joey just cradled Justin's head against his chest in one big hand, and told Chris that he'd found Bruce Springsteen's Nebraska at the bottom of his emergency bag. Justin listened to Joey's voice rumbling a tone or two below the bus engine and breathed deeply.

Later, they all sprawled out on the couch. When Chris didn't touch him, Justin flicked his ankle with his index finger until Chris fisted his hair, and said "Fucking stop it!"

It was satisfying in a way that made Justin's stomach curl with self-disgust.

* * *

It was - Justin thought - like the time Joey pointed at him after rehearsal and said "Whoa man, look at your arm." And he looked down to see a purpling bruise running from his shoulder to his elbow. It hadn't hurt until someone told him it was there.

* * *

Justin didn't like travelling as much as Chris who couldn't stand to be in one place for longer than a week, or Joey, who wore t-shirts saying Road Dog, and remembered the names of every single town they went to - even the really small ones with just one grocery store.

He didn't like it as much as they did, so when Chris spent an entire travel day talking to JC *and* playing Sonic II on single player, it seemed particularly unfair.

"-and I'm like, 'hello *my* bike'," Chris was saying when Justin's patience finally snapped." He shook Justin's hand off, absently. "'Hello, *my* bike,' and the guy's like huge, like Lonnie-sized, and-"

Justin tore the Playstation control out of Chris' hand, and as he'd expected, Chris leaped on him.

"Hand it over," Chris demanded. He was looking at Justin again and only at Justin. Beside them, JC made an annoyed sound, and Justin felt a helpless, stupid giggle rise up in his chest.

He rolled over to hide it. "You weren't even playing!" he said.

"I was so." Chris shifted, pressing Justin harder into the floor. "C'mon give it up." He pushed his free hand under Justin's body.

Justin shut his eyes, and tried not to think about the heavy weight of Chris' thighs. When Chris' hand moved down his stomach, Justin gasped and shoved the control into Chris' hand.

"Fucking give someone else a turn, then," he said.

* * *

Sometimes the shame spilled right out of him.

In New Jersey, the second bus got a flat, so they all got out and played pick-up in the rain. When Chris tried to block him, Justin shoved him on his ass.

Chris glared at him, and bounced right back up. "You wanna play?" he said. There was a dirty mark down the back of his jeans.

The rest of the game was rougher than usual.

* * *

After the Chicago show, Justin picked out a girl with long, long coffee-coloured legs and a dark puff of hair that reminded him of spun sugar.

He tapped Chris on the arm as he was leaving. "I'm gonna-" He waved vaguely in the girl's direction.

Chris was talking to two roadies, and he looked a little surprised at the interruption. "Okay," he said. "Whatever, man. Have fun."

Justin hesitated for a second; the roadies were slapping each other's backs and laughing, which meant Chris was on a roll. But then the girl tugged at his hand, and her smile was sort of like Janet Jackson's.

"I've never done this before," she whispered to him, when they got to his hotel room. Her fingers were already in his hair. "Not with a stranger, anyway."

He liked that - that she wasn't fooling herself that she knew him or anything. Plus, she smelled good, a warm crayon smell of cheap lipstick and sweaty girl.

He kissed her neck, and had a sudden, clear sense-memory of Chris' beard against his skin while they wrestled. He pulled back a little.

"You want a drink or anything?" he said.

"Um. Can we just- sorry, but I've gotta be home by 12."

"Oh sure," he said. He took a deep breath, and when he let it out, he saw Janet in her smile again. "Sure. C'mon."

He fucked her in front of the bathroom mirror, watching his own face as he did it. As far as he could tell, he didn't look any different.

* * *

"So Chris," said a DJ in Seattle, "Are you the daddy of the group?"

Chris laughed. "You make it sound so dirty." He nudged Justin. "Tell the nice man it's consensual, baby."

Lance looked uneasy. "We um. We pretty much all look out for each other," he said.

* * *

"Dude, maybe you shouldn't say shit like that," Justin said. Outside, rain lashed against the bus windows and the sky was dull. Sleep-in weather, his mother would have said. And maybe it was, but it made Justin feel like kicking out the emergency window.

"Whatever." Chris said. He was moving Busta's paws back and forth like he was boxing.

The thing about Chris was that he was cool without being cool at all. Justin's cool was the birthright, James Dean kind - he knew that in his soul. Chris on the other hand, had stupid hair, a high voice and a girls' clothing line. Against all laws of nature, he pulled it off, but it made him kind of blind to what was normally okay, and what wasn't. Sometimes he had to be told when he'd gone too far.

Justin feinted at Busta with two knuckles. "No, I'm serious," he said. "Like sometimes I see people looking at us."

"Okay."

"*Looking* at us," Justin repeated meaningfully.

"O*kay*, Justin."

"*Chris*." Justin grabbed Chris' wrist. Sometimes Chris could do one thing for hours. In Germany, they'd had Playstation marathons - ten, twelve hours long. They'd fall asleep right there on the floor and Justin would dream about badly-animated kickboxing. In the morning, his cereal-spoon would shake so much he'd spill milk on himself. Mostly though, you had to earn Chris' attention for any extended amount of time. Justin squeezed his wrist. "Chris."

"Justin." Chris' eyebrows were drawn together, but his mouth was quirked a bit - like he hadn't decided whether to be pissed or amused yet. He put Busta down carefully.

"Are you listening to me?"

"How can I *not*?"

Justin flushed, and snatched his hand away.

Chris' expression was too-knowing. He stood up slowly, and the angle made him tower over Justin. "You," he said. "Have been a pain in the ass lately, baby."

"I haven't," Justin said, tightly.

"Have so." Chris tugged Justin up, and Justin made a small noise. "Since when do you care about people looking at you?"

"I do care," Justin said. There was a strange taste in his mouth - bloody, but sweet, like failure and triumph mixed.

"You love attention. Love it." Chris smoothed his hand down Justin's spine, and pressed against the small of his back.

Justin swayed forward. "I- uh-"

"Love my attention." And Chris - fuck him - sounded almost approving and way too amused. Justin opened his mouth to tell him that, but Chris pressed his palm against the front of Justin's pants, and Justin heard himself make a soft, surprised noise instead. For a second, they were both perfectly still - like a scale just balanced. And then the moment passed, and Justin was breathing harshly, and his cock twitched with embarrassing eagerness in Chris' hand.

He felt Chris' lips against his ear. "I'm gonna suck you now. You like that idea?"  
Justin swallowed and pressed harder into his hand. "Yeah," he said. His throat felt dry.

"Good," Chris said, and pushed him against the curtained window.

Justin had had plenty of blowjobs before - great blowjobs, from girls who knew tricks he'd never even seen on cable porn. But he'd never had one with Chris looking up at him intently, his eyes dark.

At his back, the curtain slid against the window; if he moved, he'd fall. All he could do was lean back and pant while he watched his cock slide in and out of Chris' mouth. His eyelids felt heavy, but he didn't want to close them, didn't want to miss a moment of Chris' expression.

He did have to shut his eyes, finally, when Chris did something with his throat that made him thrust involuntarily. Justin clenched the curtain in two thick handfuls to keep his balance, and came hard.

Chris wiped his mouth with the back of his hand, and looked smug. "You fucking *love* my attention," he said.

Justin laughed, suddenly feeling loose-limbed and relaxed, fantastic - the way he felt when he gazed over a crowd that was screaming for him. He untangled his hands from the curtain, and slid to his knees beside Chris.

"You can shut up now," he said to Chris, easily. He nuzzled the corner of Chris' mouth, nudging him into smiling.

Chris chuckled "You're an ass," he said.

"Mmhmm." Justin licked into Chris' mouth, tasting himself. "You can have this fine ass," he suggested.

"Mmm," Chris said, kissing him back comfortably. "Kirkpatrick scores." He pushed Justin onto his back, moving over him until Justin was shuddering again.

"C'mon," Justin said.

Chris rolled over and up. "Let me get some stuff," he said. "Feel free to get naked and whatever."

He was quick - Justin had only had time to pull off his pants before Chris was back, moving over him, his slick fingers pressing into him. Justin gasped and pushed against him, feeling exposed and hot and cold.

"You know," he said. His shirt had hiked up into an uncomfortable clump against the small of his back. He licked sweat from his lips. "There's a... There's a bunk right there."  
Chris glanced at it, and then smiled at him - all teeth. "You look good on the floor," he said. And then he kind of twisted his fingers, and Justin gasped for breath. He stared at Chris - unable to talk, unable to do anything but writhe against Chris' fingers.

"Oh yeah." Chris stared at him. "Right here."

He slid his fingers out slowly and Justin moaned and ground his head against the carpet, needing sensation somewhere, *anywhere* else.

When he'd pulled himself together enough to look up again, Chris had a condom wrapper between his teeth, and was tearing it open. His free hand rested against Justin's thigh - fingers slick with lube and still hot from Justin's body.

"Chris. God." Justin watched Chris roll the condom over his cock, watched Chris' cock jerk against his stomach. The words rasped in his throat.

Chris padded gracefully on his hands and knees to straddle Justin's chest. "You know it." He ran his hand over Justin's jawline. Justin whimpered and ducked his head to nuzzle his lips against Chris' wrist.

Chris made a small noise, and encouraged by that, Justin pressed his mouth into Chris' palm. "Chris," he whispered. He pressed his teeth against the pad below his thumb, then sucked the marks he'd made. "Chris. Just do it. Just-" He squeezed his eyes shut in frustration, and slid a hand down his own body, slipping a fingertip inside himself. "Please, just-"

Justin heard Chris swallow. "Fuck. You are. You are way too fucking hot," Chris said, and his voice sounded kind of hoarse. Then Justin's hand was pushed above his head, and he felt Chris - hot and slick and wide and almost *almost* where he needed him. Justin bucked his hips, trying to get closer. "Way too fucking hot," Chris said again. This time he sounded almost reverent.

And then he was pressing inside - Chris was inside him. And he was... Justin's sucked in a breath, trying to push down the panicked flutters in his chest. "Chris," he said.

"Motherfucker." Chris sounded like he was talking between clenched teeth. "Tight."

"*Chris*," Justin said again. The pressing stopped. Justin gasped in relief.

"Fuck." Chris licked the corner of Justin's mouth. "Breathe."

"I *am*," Justin said, annoyed. He opened his eyes.

Chris' mouth quirked in an almost smile. "Yeah okay." He kissed Justin's cheek, opened Justin's mouth with his tongue. His lips moved over Justin's unhurriedly. "Breathe slower," he said into Justin's mouth.

Justin rolled his eyes, but he did. In and out and in, and when he breathed out again, something relaxed inside him, and Chris slid in deep and smooth until Justin could feel the rasp of hair, and the weight of Chris' balls resting against his ass.

"Yeah." Chris pressed his teeth against Justin's neck. "Yeah, *exactly* like that." He pulled almost all the way out, and thrust into Justin shallowly.

Justin gasped. "Oh God."

Chris moved deeper. "Good?" His mouth against Justin's throat made him shudder.

"Right there." Justin squeezed his eyes shut. "Don't stop, don't stop, don't fucking stop."

Chris laughed, open-mouthed against Justin's skin. "Yeah, I'm gonna stop," he said.

Justin snorted. "Shut up," he said. He shuddered as Chris moved again. And then they had a rhythm going - a fantastic, hard rhythm. The counter rhythm thrummed in his head, and he beatboxed it quietly into Chris' ear.

Chris laughed again. "Felt that," he said.

Justin laughed back, stupidly happy. "Good." He took a shaky breath. "God, this is good." He was still laughing a little when he came again, hard and messy. He was still laughing when Chris' rhythm quickened and stuttered and Chris collapsed over him.

"I'm too old for this," Chris muttered.

"You were the one who wanted to do it on the floor," Justin pointed out.

Chris rolled his eyes. "Shut up," he said. He grabbed Justin's hand and dragged him up. "C'mon. Bunk."

* * *

Chris was still there when Justin woke up. Chris was the one who woke him up.

"Ow! *Fuck*, Chris!"

"It's 3pm," Chris said. He rolled onto his hands and knees and made the mattress bounce. "Are we decadent rock stars or what?"

"Well, we *could* be if we like slept more," Justin said pointedly.

"You know, I can get C. to tell me how he sucks cock. But you just lie there."

Justin's heart sank. "You do JC too?"

Chris whapped him. "On the bus, you idiot. He talks on the bus. When he's sleeping."

"Oh... You talked to me?"

Chris bounced the mattress harder and grinned at him. "Yeah."

"I was *asleep*, Chris."

"I'm easily bored."

Justin tried to keep smiling. He thought about Chris coming back to the hotel at 4am and cutting off his dreads in the bathroom sink, Chris rearranging his furniture in the middle of the night because he was tired of the way it looked, Chris sleeping with girl after girl after girl and never calling any of them back.

Chris stopped bouncing and poked him. "Moody."

"Fuck off," Justin said automatically.

"I'm just saying." Chris curled a finger in Justin's hair, idly. "You're ruining my bored vibe," he added.

"Fuck off," Justin said again. He buried his grin in Chris' warm neck.


End file.
